Not a True Princess But I Can Be a Hero
by Escaping Propriety
Summary: She wasn't ordinary. She wasn't a princess or a villain. She wasn't in love with him. She just knew him and somehow he knew her. Yet, despite knowing everything about him, she was going to save him.
1. Chapter 1

**In The Moonlight**

He had never entered this realm. In fact, no one had ever called him from here. A realm that surpassed the castles and roads of his own. No vassals or lords. Not even kingdoms battling for more than they needed.

The night was far more silent than the nights he had known in the other kingdoms. The only comparison could be the eerie quiet of his castle. The fortress of the Dark One.

Yes. He, Rumpelstiltskin, the Dark One. Eater of Children. Maker of Deals. Imp.

He was inside a realm of minor magic. Nothing like his power existed within this realm. He could feel it in the air, soiling his skin through his dragon vest and forest gray silk shirt. Contaminated, something here was certainly evil but it wasn't like him. It seemed to be in "accordance," so to say.

"He' nt aa nikhe! Rumpelstiltskin!"

The devil's smile crossed over his features as he heard this. He hadn't been mistaken. Someone was looking for him. Quietly, he creeped towards the far off cry. No creatures stirred away from his presence. How strange. Again, it was only him and his magic.

The strange language left a tang in the air. It was roughened and grit-like. As though the sounds scratched themselves out of the human throat and died out in the crisp atmosphere.

Oh, it fascinated him. He had to know what it was saying. What "they" were saying. Yes, a second could be heard as he went closer to the source. His long fingers drew circles and as though he were born to it; Rumpelstiltskin knew every word.

"Rumpelstiltskin! I call to you! Show yourself!"

A boy, Rumpelstiltskin loved making deals with children. They never truly knew the price that they would pay.

"Little brother. I told you that it was just a story."

The imp didn't even halt to question the presence of the girl. It would hardly matter; perhaps he would make two deals tonight.

"But he promised. I have to do it. Father will die if we don't find a way."

A clearing opens to Rumpelstiltskin as he glides past tall trees and fallen stumps. The air is changed. Moonlight lights up the scene and a child stands small next to another figure. Instead of making himself, he waits and watches for his moment.

The young boy could hardly be more than 10 summers. Willowy in his frame and slender through the neck. Long hair crudely pulled back by some string of leather. No shirt but a wrap of a sort around his hips. Black symbols of oddity swirl round his thin torso. Rumpelstiltskin eyed the copper skin with interest before promptly examining his own green gold flesh.

He liked their style.

"Haun'e, he isn't coming. It is not true." The second voice was cold, near to dead. "The man was just telling you a story. Like the ones we tell during winter-"

"No! He promised!" The child screamed in desperation and hurt. "He said that Rumpelstiltskin could save Father."

"Sometimes, we promise what we hope will happen." The woman, not a girl, hardly raises her voice against him. "Not all is so. We should be with Father." Rumpelstiltskin remains crouched behind still willows. His breath is closed and doesn't stray from his body. However, when a prime moment arrives; he is never one to disappoint. Without another second wasted the Dark One slipped through the branches.

"Perhaps I could be of service."

Both figures froze in the silvery moonlight. Their long hair rippled when they turned in fear. The boy squinted through the misty air while the woman's mouth immediately flew open.

"No need to be afraid, dearie." Rumpelstiltskin approached in a haunting manner of humor and terror. Long fingers curled and uncurled in grim expression. He knew that he would always possess the role of a predator but that was his role nonetheless. "You were the ones who called for me after all."

The handsome child took a step forward tentatively. "Rumpelstiltskin?"

"Ay, lad. That is me. Now, what are your names?"

"I am-" before the boy was finished, long limbs covered in the same eerie paint wrapped around him. The woman wasted no time in plucking him out of the conversation.

"Shhh! Don't give him your name!" Her voice, low and whispered, barely reached the imp's ears. If it weren't for his other abilities, he probably wouldn't have caught the rest. "Names are power. Do not give him power over us."

"But sister-"

"I told you hush." She pushed the boy back even further from situation before facing the grinning imp. "I know what you do."

Rumpelstiltskin gave her his most endearing look of curiosity. Although she hardly looked up from the ground as she spoke to him. He couldn't decipher this as a sign of respect or absolute fear; either way, something about her pleased him immensely.

"He doesn't know what you truly are. He's only a child." Rumpelstiltskin only saw an echo of moonlight shining in her eyes when she barely met his gaze. "Please don't take him."

Rumpelstiltskin ignored her and returned to her original point. "You said that names have power? Is that some little story that someone told you?"

He watched her swallow cautiously. Perhaps, it isn't fear. Her shoulders seemed to roll down and relax. She became still for an entire moment. Next, was the most unexpected answer; at least, in his opinion.

"It is what my people believe. We have always believed it." Her dyed fingertips, a hue of blue or purple on dusty skin; tangled themselves in the strange tanned fabric covering flat abdomen and slightly flared hips. _How peculiar_, he pondered, whether it is custom or illness. "But I will give you my name."

"Isn't that dangerous, dearie? Giving your name to a ''**monster'**' and letting me have power over you?" A hiss slithered through his sentences and drew a visible shiver up her spine.

"You can only have power over me if I let you have it." At once, the gaze of moon flicked across his with the same shuddering effect. "I will give you the power to address me. I am Moon Eyes."

His tongue slid over his lips in a feverish laze. The act hardly turned the woman out, like it normally did to all the rest. When he stepped within touching distance, she didn't falter. As his breath touched her smooth rounded cheek, she inhaled without any sense of being repelled. Rumpelstiltskin could only sense what made her so different from the rest and like every other mysterious characteristic of hers; it was unrecognizable. He raised a claw to trace over the blackened marks across her bare shoulder. The only physical note from her was the indenting of skin from pressure.

"You are the deal maker? The one that the pale eyes spoke of?"

"I don't know who you're speaking of." He mused thoughtfully as his hand traveled down her lithe arm.

"I've only experienced this realm in," he brought his fingers back to discover that her skin is just as marked as his own. "Fragments. I have heard of it and I have seen it but never entered."

"How is this so?" Her voice was low and gentle. Moon Eyes, never having jerked back before suddenly jumped as he tried to speak as gently as possible. Although it was probably his sudden grasp pulling her against him that frightened her. "Visions. I see this world in visions."

Her scent was inhaled by him. He knew of smoke, sage, and tobacco combined in her skin. Along with blood and sickness. Immediately the deal took form in his meticulous head. "And what I have seen is illness and death here. It has killed many of your people. Am I close, dearie?"

Hardly a twist or a turn from her. Her only resignation was to stare anywhere but at him. He pondered over whether she is overly stubborn or further frozen in fear. The only movement that escaped from her zombie-like mode was her lips whisper. "Can you help us or not?"

"Of course. I am the "deal maker." He dropped her arm before she could reply and as quick as a bird's wings, Rumpelstiltskin was lengths away. Moon Eyes didn't bother looking up at him or pursuing his presence. Her boxy frame slowly kneeled down and her head was held straight as she began her haggling.

"We will trade."

He stopped his sentence when he realized that she had repeated the same sentence as his. A delighted grin lifted his spirits and he clapped gleefully. This woman was much different than the others in his realm. How afraid and pitiful they became at this point but her; she was sating a hunger of his. One that Regina and Maleficent could never fulfill. This dark eyed, long haired enigma was using his own maniacal yet logical thinking against him. She was playing his game at an equal level.

Moon Eyes' face gleamed timidly at his clapping. She understood his contentedness and shared it. At least, he supposed this as he started approaching in a manner that was much less restrained then before.

"What will you offer, Moony?"

The full lips turned bitter in resentment as his mispronunciation. "My name is Moon Eyes-

"You seem more like the "Moony" kind. When it's high, you're bright and happy and shiny." He doesn't know why he's begun to circle around her but he has. "When it's half cast, so are you. Then when it's gone, well, you are gone too. You're Moony. Loony like the moon!"

Before she answered, the laughing imp rasped. "And of course, you are a woman!"

He didn't expect her to catch on to the quip but she surprised him. "Is being a woman so funny, Rumpelstiltskin? Perhaps, in another time, you would have been welcomed here. Even by us women."

Then again, he was never that slow on the uptake as well. "Is that part of the trade?"

He took his place on the ground behind her and hovered over so that his long nose rested on the lobe of her ear. "Would you give yourself to a beast? Submit yourself to cruelty and brutality? I must warn you, I can be quite a nasty little beastie if I wish to be."

Her sugary scent of sweat and mountain winds was maddening him beyond belief.

"Are those the only trades that you accept?" He watched her speak in the same tiny whisper that he had used.

He wished with all of his might that she would end this repartee. Why can't she blush, giggle or better yet, fall disgusted at the idea? The question sat inside his chest and tickled his ribs in annoyance. Rumpelstiltskin was not accustomed to the indifference and amount of thought that she was putting into this proposition.

"Moony" was methodical but not cold.

Yet, there was not the same wantonness that he had viewed in the eyes of the tavern wenches that offered themselves to him for a quick deal. To be rid of the unwanted brood, the death of wretched customers or the usual wish for escape from their rotten surroundings of lusting men and heavy handed pimps. Yes, he had experienced all sorts of 'offerings' but was proud enough to never lowering himself to such despicable behavior.

No, this was not the world of Moon Eyes.

There were no towns. He had surmised this on first glance. There were no taverns or brothels. The people here only drank the sweet water of untouched creeks and consumed raw fruit from the plentiful bushes that they scouted. The world she inhabited and the people she existed from were all as untouched as she was. Innocent but not ignorant or naïve. At that point, Rumpelstiltskin viewed her as he would a freshly sharpened blade.

_Dangerous._

How many seconds had passed as he had configured a past and a world for this woman in his mind; Rumpelstiltskin replied to this by rising harshly and brushing past. He doesn't run away from the strange behavior he's exhibiting but he decided immediately to wrap this up. Because he does have many, many, important things waiting for him at his fortress and curses won't create themselves.

"Well, what will it be, dearie? Unfortunately, I don't have the time for chitchat, chitchat."

She remains as quietly collective and dignified as before until finally the painted visage of black striped eyes turn to their forgotten third person. "Go back to our people and to Father."

"But sister, what about you?"

The small boy hadn't even moved an inch from his spot and neither had his fear resided.

Her head only tilted to partially face him. "Go. I will take care of everything. I promise."

It is more than finality inside in her tone. It is not a commandment or a plea. It is absolution. Even Rumpelstiltskin felt something from that. However, he admitting that to himself was impossible. After all, he was the Dark One and she was just a mere trifle in a very odd realm.

With one last glance, the boy sprinted out of the wooded glen. Rumpelstiltskin smiled at his good fortune; deals were always less difficult when he only had one person to contend with. The fangs sparkled in the light and caught the woman's attention. How she was standing up made him feel a little uneasy; that he might slightly admit but only quietly and solely to himself. It was slow and sensuous. The soft grass made a whisking sound as she dragged her feet at a slow pace towards him. She was approaching, head down cast and shoulders slouched. Her hands though were moving in a means that sent bigger shivers down his body and making a lump magically form in his throat.

Her fingers reached precariously under her arm and tugged. The wrap loosened. Only her hands were keeping the thick material from falling. Oh yes, the imp was considering that this little slip might frighten him even more than Regina does on a bad day. The girl was not the average deal seeker. He anticipated how far she might attempt to go before he would see that expression.

Disgust. Hate. Fear. Shame.

He knew those so well and no person had ever looked at him with anything else. Except for _her_. The one that he doesn't speak of, he doesn't think of, and he never mentions. An ache erupted in his heart and he felt more ashamed of his actions than ever before. Was he, Rumpelstiltskin, actually considering this offer when _she_ was still alive in his heart? He always avoided the remembrance of _Belle_, so why no-

Warm fingers touched his cheek. The fingertips traced his features in a curious manner. With eyes closed and shuddered breath, Rumpelstiltskin recalled how only one other woman had laid a hand so easily on him without any hesitations. The other hand joined the first and he felt the patterns of the human yearning for touch being singed into his skin by gentleness.

Then he glanced at Moon Eyes. She wasn't looking at him but her actions were directed at him. Instead, she was looking past him, out to the open night sky. The full moon glowed inside her as an eerie apparition but the expression was warm. Not the fondness she would have for a lover but a liking of a sort. Rumpelstiltskin felt hypnotized by the lack of understanding that she had exposed within him.

"Look at me."

He didn't realize that he had commanded her so teasingly until her nose crinkled in dislike. "No. I mustn't."

"Dearie, I told you to look at me."

Her hands had travelled down his shoulders and his own were gripping hers in a fury that he knew so well. The deal maker felt justified in his anger; after all, this was how every woman would come to be in reference to him. They despised him. They were disgusted by him. They did not love him or desire him in any way. Yes, he could afford to be smug at this moment; he decided that as he laid his grip on her chin and wrenched her face to his. Now, if only she would make it easy and open her eyes but she doesn't. Quickly, the imp became enraged by her refusal.

"You are going to face the deal that you've started!" He roared against her and held her still. His long nails drew blood from her shoulder. The hot plasma felt like tepid spring rain against his flesh and it pushed him over the edge.

"No! Stop! Stop!" Her fists pounded helplessly against him and he finally realized that she had been without clothing for some time. He drew on her naked disadvantage and dug his fingers into the small of her back. A hiss of pain made spit fly out of her gasping mouth but like he expected, she was stilled.

"Don't. Please, don't."

The moon woman's pleading made him feel the same empowerment that he had lost before. She was terrified and he loved it. Her long hair tangled up with the clotting blood of the wound down her back. With another curl of his fingers, the woman's eyes open.

"All I want is one little look, Moony." A crooked grin and reddened eyes encompassed his entire composure. He was ecstatic to be back in his own game with his own rules. "You do this and I will take away this little sickness from your people. All of you will be safe again."

Her strength was leaving her. He noticed when her body started sagging against his. Yet, she still spoke weakly. "You are promising this? It will be the trade?"

With some of his usual flourishing, he tactfully withdrew his other claw from back; despite her wince of pain. Then he placed it over the area that a heart should have existed. The bloody fingers only served to make him more menacing, despite the look of genteel in his manners. "I will uphold our trade if you will."

Her nod brought out a chuckle from him and he propped her up to his gaze like she was no more than a child. "Now, let's see those eyes, Moony."

She opened her eyes to his. Rumpelstiltskin's grin died on his lips and the arrogance he always displayed was pushed back. He knew that he had committed a major mistake in allowing her to look into his eyes.

The sensation of a sword being shoved through his sternum and pulled out was the literal feeling. The experience was his life, from birth to that moment. However, the horror of it all was that _she knew_. She saw everything and knew everything. The cruel childhood of being chided and starved. The loveless marriage that's only gift was Baelfire and how he lost his only child. The birth and training of Regina. Finally, the most regretful moment; his rejection of Belle and her love. Rumpelstiltskin felt her dig inside of him and once inside, she took him.

_That is why she avoids my eyes._ He felt a great fool for not heeding her mannerisms and not "seeing" her for what she truly was. _Sorceress. Seer. Demon._

She was just like him.

With a resounding cry, she released him. Although he would say that he released her. Either way, both were laying on the cool grass and trying to gather their strength to face the other. He was lost in a world forgotten places and people. The colors that he would dye onto cotton and weaves. The smell of the tiny village that his son played in. The heartache at his wife's betrayal. How he had hated himself as the Dark One when his son only looked at him with terror. But losing Bae and Belle were both equal in heartbreak.

Tears streamed across his thin face and sharp chin. He wished they were only raindrops. A trembling hand came up and viciously rubbed all traces of sentiment. He had promised that he would never have a weakness and he had meant it with all of his soulless will.

"Bae…coward…Regina…power…" He knew she was only a reach away but her voice entered his head like a mallet. "Belle…true love…coward…co-"

His magic ensured his strength and with a flash, he was on top of her. Straddling her waist and looming above like a vulture. Her locks were spread out like a funeral pillow black and moon light. Suddenly, she seemed more vulnerable and younger than ever before.

"It would be very foolish of you to repeat anything else, Moony." Her eyes remained as tightly closed as ever before. Yet, he traced a nail from eye lid to eye lid. "So, you have a power. One of a kind and very useful. I wonder what other little tricks you can do."

"I…warned you." Her chest heaved up and down in painful motions. "Should…have…listened to me. Now…I know…all. Coward."

Rumpelstiltskin had no hesitations in putting his knee over her throat and letting down his weight on her windpipe. In fact, it was so instantaneously that he almost lost himself in the act and killed her. Yet, he only allowed a little weight to sag down on her. Just enough so that she would know what could happen.

"That's not a word that I like hearing, dearie. Not a very nice word."

"It is true." Her hands were against his leg but there was no strength behind them. "You are…the weakest…being. Coward."

Pressing down harder and hearing her choke was enough to satisfy his anger over that last remark. He didn't want to kill her but he should. She knew everything about him and that was good enough reason to be rid of her. Yet, she could be very useful. Very utilizable in the right capacity and if she had a penchant for magic that has been surviving in this dampened environment; she might surpass Regina. However, he noticed one flaw about her.

He couldn't see her future. Fingers were pressed against his temple and his eyes were closed. He was indifferent to her struggle as he stayed on top of her and tried to look. Nothing. He saw nothing at all.

However, she had seen everything about him. She had passed through his defenses and he couldn't get through hers. The Dark One tried to see a future without her. It was the same stream that he had always seen.

The marriage of Snow White and Charming.

Their child.

Regina would initiate the curse and all would be as it should.

But then if he tried to bring Moon Eyes into the picture. It was blank. _Interesting, _he looked at her expression of struggle against suffocation and calculated what would be the advantage. Suddenly, he heard a whimper.

"One day, I will save you from her. Regina."

He snickered wickedly. "From Regina? She is hardly a threat to me."

"I will save your…heart." He lifted his knee and calmly waited for her to regain her capacity to converse. "She will try to kill the ones you love. I will save them."

"Them? It isn't some princess?" He let out another high pitched squeal of humor.

"There will be two of them. A woman and a man."

The creeping sensation of fate being twisted was palpating inside of him. He twitched and tried to keep sensible but this woman wasn't allowing him to remain unscathed. "Who are they?"

Through her closed glances, he can see the nervousness. "I don't know. Their faces were blurred. I only saw you and Regina. You were dying."

"How would you be of any aid?"

His tone was sharp and hurtful. He made Moon Eyes seems as though she were the weakling, the coward. He could only picture her bleeding and hurt in the grass as she was with him standing high above her. Not like the powerful being that she was describing. Still, she kept strong against his words.

"I will be powerful but I will not be like either of you. I can't be like you. It isn't in me."

"You don't know until you're in the same place, dearie. Don't overestimate yourself."

"Then let me die here." She tried to sit up but the pain threw back down. "With my people."

Moments pass and Rumpelstiltskin seriously considered her order. He could leave her here and she would bleed out by morning. Her village would find her naked and scraped up; like an animal had attacked her. But if she survived than she had to face what was coming. Yes, the imp had seen the future of this world and she won't survive; none of her people would survive even if he freed them from sickness. The forces of man would always have an essence of evil that could surpass even his malicious ways.

_But we did have a deal._

He swiped his hands together and brought forth magic. The sky turned into an oblivion of orange, red, and purple. The moon paled over into a shiny disc. Moon Eyes still scrunched her eyes closed against the roar of the wind and air being thrown into a mess by the spell. His long limbs drew circles and stars. The mousy hair on his head flopped over his eyes and all he could do was conduct the spell until its end.

There. He felt it. The sickness that was within the people. It clung to them and destroyed their bodies. Their pores were turned into blisters and their breathes were stolen by liquid in the lungs. Fever made them feel unbearable to any sense and heightened their pain to a pinnacle of despair. Their pain, for a moment, became his pain.

But then as the spell cleared from the sky, the illness had passed with it. Rumpelstiltskin lightly huffed and blew his hair from his face. The lank strands flew to the sides and he was brought back to this original state of immaculacy. He almost walked away before he heard-

"Thank you."

She was sitting up and staring at the clear night. No longer kept in a haze of death and sadness. Even her spirit seemed lighter than before. He giggled one of his inhuman sounds and crept back to her.

"We had a deal." Once again, he kneeled behind her and leaned in. "Would you like to make another?"

"I have seen our future." She sounded so assured that he wondered if he could ever actually make her fear him. "We will make many deals together. However, you do not need a deal for this. You just have to ask."

Somewhere inside, he knew what she meant. Maybe he had always known her and that was what terrified him. Knowing someone and having them know him without risk of losing them. It made him feel almost as composed as she appeared.

"Would you like to learn some magic, dearie?"

Still, she could surprise him. "Rumpelstiltskin, I want to learn everything. Not just magic."

"An education is never a waste. That is what they say."

The odd little voice that he only used for making deals and scaring kings erupted from him as part of habit. If only, she didn't smile so pleasantly and nod at his quips but she does. Her wrap that she had abandoned, had found its way back to her body and was in place as she slowly rose to follow him.

"I have only one request for you." He paused for her to catch up and kept his ear open to what she wanted to suggest. "Don't call me, Moony."

He hopped from foot to foot in boredom and teased. "Loony Moony doesn't like her name. Then what shall the monster call her?"

"You're not a monster." He almost tripped when he heard her reply. Only one other person had ever told him that. Yet, Moon Eyes didn't even take the time to connect the dots with who had shared the same phrase. Instead, she walked right past him as though she knew how he had come to be here. "But you refuse to say my name right so we must agree on another name."

"You must have many names if you can pick one from another." He flittered in front of her and snapped his fingers. "Just like that!"

"Maybe, I do. Dark One." She teased him like he was an old friend and Rumpelstiltskin found it unnerving yet comforting. Not many were unafraid of him. "But no, I only have one other name. The pale eyes gave me one when they couldn't say the first one."

They were at the spot that he had arrived. Rumpelstiltskin held onto her wrist like she was a runaway child. He noticed that she didn't seem insulted by his actions but neither was she pleased. Again, there was that indifference that always made him feel unsure; like she was thinking thousands of things that were beyond his comprehension. He had to free both of them from this odd mood.

"So, what pray tell is this other glamorous name of yours, dearie?"

His fingers had already drawn the transportation spell but she said it despite the purple haze that seized them.

"They called me, Pocahontas."


	2. Chapter 2

The Moon Shines Again

To be honest, he never expected to see her again. After the curse, that is. He never knew what would come of the creature that he had plucked from the realm that his kingdom was supposed to be transferred to. He didn't know if she was going to be trapped in the realm they were leaving or if she would be returned to her own time in this other realm.

So, when he saw her strolling into town with a long barreled rifle and tall western boots; he tried not to make himself noticed. He succeeded. He was able to make it to his shop without drawing her attention. Of course, even if she did stop for him, she shouldn't remember him. That is how the curse is supposed to work.

_No one remembers_. He keeps telling that to himself. Only he and Regina remember their old world. His quiet and disciplined disciple of golden skin has to remember nothing.

In this world, he is Mr. Gold, the town's main proprietor and acquirer of "things." Regina is Mayor Mills and runs the place in accordance to what they have both agreed upon. It's a paradise of sorts. Every one of their enemies has been denied their happy ending and he, Mr. Gold, gets all of the power.

But Poc-

No, she is now Astor Moon, the Park Ranger for Storybrook National Forest. He reminds himself of that as he sips his chamomile tea and tries to be rid of the fear that takes over whenever he sees her on the street.

These frenzies of his has to do with how she looks at him. Yes, he leans back in his leather chair and decides that that's it. Her stare. She no longer has that creepy "moon in the eyes" effect but the seriousness of a harsh night is still there. Ranger Moon stares at anyone as if she knew every little secret that they try so hard to hide.

The lovers that they've hidden away with, in dark corners and shady hotel rooms. The substances tucked into pockets, drawers, and purses for when they're alone. The habits that happen only behind closed doors. Moon acts like she knows them all and yet, she greets everyone with a smile accompanied by a hearty handshake.

_That is another odd effect of the curse._

In their realm, she was a quiet little thing. She only smiled when she was with him or when she was running free through the heavy woods that surrounded his castle. Here, she is always smiling and talking.

During her apprenticeship, she hardly spoke to him. He knew that she wasn't afraid to speak and felt free to do as she pleased. She never made a deal that bound her to him or acted as if she was lower than him in any sort of manner. In fact, there were times that she displayed an intelligence that was commonly unheard of in his realm or hers. She could see a spell performed once and be able to repeat every step immediately after. The herbs that he used for potions became second nature to her after she only brewed once. He only gave her a tour of his home once and that was all that she required. When he asked her and he certainly did ask her about this, she only replied:

"_Where I come from, there is only live or die. You must remember everything you see and hear the first time. If you don't, then the second time may kill you."_

After that, he ceased questioning her about her past, her understanding, and her skills. She was his student and his best one. Many times, he would hold it over Regina that was far more powerful beings than her but she never knew to whom he was referring to.

_Thank goodness,__ although Moon could have handled herself if she wished._

The clanging of his welcoming bell steals him away from his remembrance. Customers couldn't be kept waiting when there were deals to be made. He straightens his tie and grabs his cane. Hearing the sounds of heels across the floor, his sense of chivalry speaks for him.

"Please! One moment!"

He hobbles from his office to the front and then as he catches sight of his customer; he wishes that there were some way to run back the other way. It's her, Astor Moon. The woman that he had been trying to avoid for almost 12 years.

He had been very successful on most counts. She was the head ranger of the park and only ventured to town every few months. Each time, he knew to keep off the streets and to avoid Granny's diner. Only once or twice, had he been forced to pass her. Each time, she tipped her Stetson at him and continued on her way as he had done the same.

It looks as though his luck has finally run its course.

"Hello. How may I help you?"

The brogue that he acquired through the curse gives him the appearance of being out of place in the town. He is well aware of this fact but instead of inquiring about it like everyone else has; she drifts towards the first glass counter.

"I am looking for Mr. Gold."

Her voice, still low and gruff as ever. He remembers telling her that girls in his realm spoke high and proper; the old Moon had wrinkled her nose at the thought of speaking like a "twit." Her words, entirely. He wishes that he could avoid missing that gentle sound.

"I am Mr. Gold and you must be Ms. Moon."

"Ranger Moon, please." The same wrinkled expression of distaste comes up and he has repeat to himself that she is not the same person. "Ms. Moon" holds me open to the many connotations of being single and this is a small town."

"Understandable." The businessman in him thankfully saves him from himself. Resting the cane against the glass, he lays a hand on the glass that she's peering at. "Is there something of interest that you wish to purchase?"

He notes how she grabs at the strap around her chest. A rifle holder. He had seen it when she was speaking but now he wonders why she would ever part with it.

"No. I have this though and it's not your run-of-the-mill rifle." She unzips it in a military fashion of efficiency and quickness. Places it gently on the counter and reveals it in all its glory. Now, Gold understands why she would bring this to the antique store. "I actually found this in a camp out in the park. No one called my office or the Sheriff's about it and I think that this may be worth something. However, I'll leave the valuation to you."

"It's in wonderful condition."

It's not in his manner to ask to do something, so he picks up without question. The weight feels balanced enough and the barrel is as straight as it could be. No dents or marks. He runs his hands across the handle for nicks.

He puts it down and finally dares to look deep into her eyes. "How minimal was the exposure to the elements?"

"Whoever camped was there during our dry season. No rain or anything moist got to it. When I found gun, it was leaning against a tree in this same carrier."

_Suspicious. Very suspicious._ He knows that she was thinking along the same lines, "You suspect that this may be stolen or have some other string attached to it?"

And there is that bright smile.

The funny thing about Moon is that she's not a siren. She's not like Ruby at the diner with short skirts and tight blouses cut too low. She's not the slithery snake that Regina is with seduction and deceit pouring from every pore. Yet, she's not the dapper daisy that Mary Margaret is.

Moon is striking and strong. Her youth never fades and neither does her resilience. It's like staring at the ocean, when a storm is far out and all one can see are the clouds gathering but the wind is steadily sweet. He always admired her splendor and her sweetness but he never forgot what she could be capable of.

"I did. That's also why I went to the Sheriff's office but Graham told me he has," Moon plays out the other man's words with lowered tone and jesting fingers. "**Better things to do because Mayor Mills says so**."

"Of course, he does." He laughed a little at how much of the same silliness and lack of trepidation remained in Moon. "Mayor Mills is here every day and his service is always available to her but you come in every four months and of course, can't be helped at all."

The long black locks are tucked up into a french braid that bobs with each nod she makes along with his points. "Actually, it's every 5 to 6 months. It doesn't matter though because I'm not about to let him piss me off. I just wanted to make sure that if it was stolen or missing then it was returned."

"And if it's worth something?"

Her pearly smile brightens up. "Then I would like to use the profit from the rifle to go towards the park."

Gold feels slight confusion. Yes, the old Moon could be nice but he had never seen an aversion for charity. This other version of her is quite different. "If the value is miniscule, what are you going to do with so little?"

Her eyes squint off into the distance and he knows that she has already put thought into this possibility. "Just use it towards buying some fertilizer for the new blackberry bushes I planted along the creek."

Again, this is was not his Moon. He grits his jaw as he notices that he had thought of her as his. How wrong his thinking is. If there was ever a certainty is that Moon was no one's property. She has always made sure that he knew that at every moment.

"But if it is worth something more, I will be repairing the fencing on the north side of the park." Gold shakes his head in wonderment and she catches on to his curiosity. "Hunters and poachers have a tendency to cut through that fence because it is next to tagged areas. I usually catch them trying to be sneaky and get through but luckily, I have yet to have a single animal harmed by them in my park."

"You must be quite the tracker."

"I hope so. I don't like killing for sport. It's tasteless." Again, the wrinkled expression tugs at his heart but it's gone just as quickly. "Anyways, when these guys come through the fence; they always cut it open. Too high to climb over and you can't crawl under. So, the idiots cut it wide open and every time, I have something get out or something comes in."

The shopkeeper tries to imagine what woul-

"Mountain lions. Stray dogs. No wolf packs in this area but there are coyotes." She answers the question in his head and Gold shudders at the sudden recollection of her doing that so often in another place. At another time, when they were more colleagues than strangers. "That was what you were thinking about, right?"

He likes that she is pleased with herself. She used to brood so much over personal mistakes and errors that it would annoy him to no end. Moon was right when she told him that she lacked the indifference that Regina and he had. They didn't care how wrong they were, they both do as they wish.

"Yes, that was my thought." Back to the gun with a well-placed palm on the barrel, he drums up a price. "This rifle is an antique. Very late 1800s. Reminiscent of the rifles that cavalry soldiers carried-"

A growl of displeasure erupts from her. Immediately, she ducks her head and mutters an apology. Leaning against the glass as well, she has put herself in the position of being in deep counsel with him. He decides to use this position to his advantage.

"Point being, I can give you-" The height of his sympathy threatens to overwhelm as he considers what she's going to do with the money.

_She will never know the truth._

"$1,800. That's my offer."

Moon mouths the word "wow." Then pushes the gun towards him and beams excitedly. "I'll take it. Thank you so much. I didn't imagine that it was worth anything at all."

"One person's garbage…"

He doesn't bother to end the quote as she responds adamantly.

"Too true. The other day I found a cache buried beneath rocks on the edge of the park. I think that whatever tribe was here must have left it. It was, you know, nice to see something like that remaining."

He stops himself from asking because he does know the answer but it will be a very long time until they speak again. "You are a Native American, right?"

"Yes, I am. I'm Algonquian, Sioux, and Kiowa."

He says the only thing that he can think of as he steps away. "I'm sorry that you even had to touch this."

Again, he can't understand why he is doing or saying these things. He just keeps doing it. It is true though he doesn't believe that something like this should have ever fallen into her hands. He covers the rifle and keeps it away from her as he takes it to a shelf underneath the counter.

"Thank you, Mr. Gold." He freezes at the sincerity in her tone and when he turns around, the rounded features are appreciative. "I don't think that many people have an idea of how it feels to have something that is meant to destroy you be treated with more value than yourself."

"On the contrary, my dear. I understand. I may not know entirely but I can understand how much power one object can have over a life."

She knows better than to ask so she accepts his words with a thoughtful musing. Her back turns to him and her attention goes to the rest of the cabinets. Gold watches her peruse coins, lockets, and music boxes. She was always like that; consuming everything around and never ceasing to find something interesting about all of it.

He takes the moment to really examine the woman before him. Her physique is the same. Strong legs covered in loose straight leg jeans. She was never particularly feminine, at least, not in his culture's sense. The brown boots add more to her strong character. It's too warm for a coat so she wears a mint green button up shirt. Same western style.

Her style would be a terrible addition to his golden tie and black fitted ensemble.

Her frame still lacks major curves. At their first meeting, he recalls that she was a very enticing figure once revealed but not in a common way. The understatement of her slight curvature resulted in the budding of feminine beauty in other ways.

Clear dusky skin over her entire body. Full and opened lips of rustic plum. Naturally curling eyelashes. High cheekbones that made her seem cunning like a fox. Small hands of smooth complexion and touch.

_You always were lovely in my opinion, Moon_. He ponders for a moment if she still has all those tattoos.

He thumbs through his register loudly with a ding. Truthfully, he had been watching her so closely that he hadn't noticed that he had even made his way over to the register. Now though he picks up the main tray and finds his cash bag.

"Would you like me to count it out for you, dear?"

He waits quietly as she approaches, heel to toe against the floor. "Oh no. You're fine. I think I trust you."

Gold hums underneath his breath as he lays down the cash and counts it out once again to himself. The money slips down on the surface, one hundred bills after another before turning into fifties and twenties. His gold ring flashes in the light and shines brightly against the glaring light from the windows.

He can only picture how odd of a character he must appear to her.

"I like that song." He ends his counting and pushes it towards her while she stutters. "Uh, it's not a new song. I know the words. _Closing time, you don't have to go home but you can't stay here…_"

_Why can't she falter in some way_?

That was his problem with Moon. She was somehow perfect. She knew every tiny detail that he would refer to and she kept on sync with his moods. His highs were her lows and his lows were her highs. They balanced each other and clashed just as much but she usually knew everything that he spoke of. Even now, she was on beat with him.

"Very good, Ranger Moon. Perhaps, you should have been a performer. Studying can keep you from going flat."

It's a very tight-lipped comment and it came across as very rude. If she's anything like the old Moon then she will-

"Nah, I ride horse and shoot guns much better than I could ever sing." Her gleefulness doesn't even change at his shocked expression. "Looks like we all can't fulfill every calling, now can we?"

"I will admit that you are much more than meets the eye."

He now believes that he has turned this to flirting. If it were any more obvious, then he would have purred that last line. Gold prays that she will ignore it entirely.

"I like to think of myself as simple, Mr. Gold."

"Such an inaccurate way of thinking about yourself, Ranger Moon." He watches her scoop up the bills and stuff them down her jeans pocket. "Don't most women want to be mysterious and enthralling?"

Her head is thrown back in laughter with her hand on the door handle. "Just as men want to be debonair and dangerous, I guess. But honestly, I prefer simple. Like me. Like you."

_Heartbeat, please die and go away._

Her last words heighten his heart's palpitations even further.

"Even if you don't think so, Mr. Gold."

Gold doesn't dare smile at her comment and he can't even register if he looks pleased or not. However, Moon is shining at full peak. Her youthful vigor makes him feel even more trapped by his lack of vivacity.

She waves goodbye with a twinkle in her eye and steps out through the door without his farewell. In one way, he didn't want to tell her goodbye and then again, he stares at the door with the hope, she will never return. He knows better though then to believe that such a wish will ever come true.


	3. Chapter 3

**Deals with Beauty**

Defiant whelp. Any other person in this realm and he would have them punished in several different manners; all bringing a human to the brink of death. She knew this. She had only been reminded every day, during their morning meal. He, Rumpelstiltskin, would leer candidly and rasp at her the same expression every day.

"Betray me and I will destroy you, dearie."

But now, as he sits alone in his castle, trying to determine her whereabouts; he foolishly chides himself for not remembering her daily reply to his "warning."

"Betray me and I won't save you when it counts, Skinny."

How he hated that term. "Skinny." When she had first uttered it, he assumed she was referring to trim stature; admittedly, he had always been a small man. The vulgarity though was not so desired. She must have seen how it had irked him because she would later explain that it was because of the last syllable in his name, 'skin."

She decided to only call him that wretched name when he "deserved" it. Other than that, she had dubbed him as "Skins." Ideally, he thought of it as a powerful name. It made him think of the tannery trade but with a twist; after all, there was that fable about him "skinning" children for their pelts. When he told Pocahontas, she had laughed quite vigorously because the idea was so ridiculous for her.

_Now where the hell is she?_

His apprentice had begged him to let her explore outside of the walls of the castle. At first, he placated her with objects and lessons. Teaching her how to read was the absolute first step. Although he would never admit it, teaching her to decipher those thorny symbols and understand the sounds has been quite entertaining. The concept of reading and writing is a completely new experience for her. Watching her learn has fascinated him as much as learning has entranced her. He never imagined that she would have an endless appreciation for the education he has offered her.

On the days that are quiet and slow; the days that have her walking through the library and picking up this book and ciphering through that book. That is when he is in his tower. After a month or so, he finally allowed her up there. Of course, she tinkered through every single object and even tipped over a jar full of emerald fairy dust.

He considered throwing her from the tower window after that incident.

However, when she is off exploring the castle and he is on his own schedule, the great Deceiver finds himself comparing his sole two students. Both powerful. One slightly more sadistic than the other; he thought Pocahontas was just a silly girl but her temperament could easily match his or Regina's. The native girl had less stamina for magic than Regina but he knew that this ability came from experience. Her aptitude was far better than the Evil Queen's and so were her instincts. Now, if only he could free her from that wretched code of ethics that she had dragged over from the other realm.

The main problem was: Pocahontas would not kill.

She would transform something into a lesser and more harmless form but that was where she would stop. It angered him immensely. Six times now, he had to smash her subjects or destroy them in some other manner.

_Why can't they just be released?_

She always pleaded with the same question. He could explain it to her for the rest of eternity and Pocahontas would still be protesting every second of the day.

"It's a liability to allow them to live."

It is plain. It is simple. It is an uncomplicated notion. Yet, for her, he might as well be speaking in five different languages at once while trying to rid the universe of evil, resurrect the dead, and bottle true love; all well before teatime.

"Skins!" She pops through the door like a naughty child and wastes no time in sitting next to him on the long table.

"You're late."

He can't even begin to measure the amount of aggravation in his system when she ignores him.

"I was distracted."

"For three days, my apprentice? Three full days and two nights!"

The high tone of his voice lowers to ferocious bass and he hops off the table. She doesn't stir from his show of disappoint and he knows better than to expect any aggressive argument from her; her nature is a quiet ferociousness. That could possibly be the worst type to pair with him. "Do you have nothing to say for yourself, dearie?"

"I found a fairy."

He forces his arms to cross over the other and tells himself that he WILL NOT kill her. Right now. "A fairy. And what did this fairy want with you, my dear?"

The tea set that he had to prepare for teatime, when it is her chore, distracts her for a moment. Pocahontas reaches for a raspberry scone. As her blue-dyed fingertips land upon the crust, his hand is already slowing hers. "No, you don't. Not until you tell your little fairy story."

She swallows nervously and tugs at the two braids alongside her shoulders. "We just talked about the trees, and the sun." Her shimmery stop drops to the ground and somehow she speaks so fast that her lips don't even move.

"AndsheaskedmeaboutwhereIcame from."

"I am sorry but you'll have to speak a little slower. I'm simply an imp and I need a little clarity."

"She wanted to know where I came from." He thought of reasons to not blast her into oblivion while she kept on. "It was a blue fairy or somethi-"

"The Blue Fairy." He snarls the name like it was the curse beyond all curses. "That little snooping pi-"

"Stay calm." Already, her cheeks were filled with a scone as she sips tea. "She tried to use her fairy "dirt" to-"

He had to giggle when his apprentice said that. Pocahontas shook her head at him and continued on. "To find where I was from. But just like you, she had difficulties."

"Dearie, are you telling me that the Blue Fairy herself couldn't use her dust on you?"

The woman tsks politely. "No, not exactly. She gave me a gift."

The dark tattoos ripple across her muscles as she pulls out a large object from the air. Rumplestiltskin quietly thanks fate that he had thought of teaching her that spell. It really is quite useful; the displacement spell for carrying pesky objects. However, he pauses when he sees what she has brought for him.

A book. The cover was ordinary brown. A heavy book and it is cradled easily in her arms. She opens it for a moment and reads out loud. "Once upon a time, there was a kingdom-"

"Why, in Maleficient's name, would she ever give you that?"

"Because I told her that I was learning to read." Her lopsided grin opened even more and she went to reading.

Rumpelstiltskin watches the object warily. He knows what the object is and he knows its power. It has every single person's tale and happy ending. Even the ones that had yet to take place. The heat from the fireplace reminds him that he is standing somewhat close to the fireplace. A step is taken and then another as he leaves her to the new distraction.

His mind rotates the situation around and evaluates. _The Blue Fairy_. _The fairy tale book_. Pocahontas. Her ability to rise above all traces of time; at least, when this realm's magic is applied to her. Yet, a smirk comes out on those thin lips and sharpened teeth exclaim a gasp.

That book may be of some use.

"How long are you going to laze around for?" He snaps her out of whatever happy tale she was perusing.

A snap sounds out when she throws the book down onto the long table. He has become so used to her outbursts of temper that he hardly even winces. Only to stop the book as it slides to his end. "We have work to do, dearie."

She only stands and waits for him to lead. The imp would never admit that he is always pleased by her lack of defiance. Pocahontas never questions his intentions or orders but he does continuously have a sinking feeling that she only allows this because she knows so much more than she lets on.

"Waiting for you, old man."

That was the other detail about her that Regina lacked. Genuine humor at his dispense with a lack of hostility.

When he wondered into the land of my people, I knew him. I had seen him many times, in dreams, in visions of day; maybe even as I laid inside my mother's womb. I have always known Rumpelstiltskin.

He came at a time when I truly needed him. I had not imagined that he would not come; if he hadn't, I would have been devastated. My brother believed what Captain Smith had told him. Little tales about a creature that hungered for the flesh of newborn children that were owed to him through the weaknesses and vices of the children's' parents. I knew better than to put an ear to the rugged captain's ramblings.

Initially, I was intrigued by that man. Tall and broad shouldered. His face covered in fur, like the wolf skins we sleep on. However, his odor was not as appealing as the smoky furs that were on the floors of my father's lodge. Yet, he was new. He was an _explorer_. That is the word that he used when I asked him about himself and although I didn't understand his reasons for coming to our land; the entire idea fascinated me.

I wanted the same freedom.

To see the worlds that visited me through the reflections of water pools. Yes, I saw many things in the water's edge and the moon's shine. Many times, I asked my father if such power was supposed to be possessed by me. My father, so proud and strong, would only say that it was a gift and it was given to me for a reason. My purpose was to find that reason so that the gift wasn't wasted.

I understood then that the time of Rumpelstiltskin was approaching. The coming of the pale faces in their _ships_ of bark and cloth. They were the sign that my time was coming. The time of me leaving my people for the freedom that I craved and the chance to understand my gift.

But Rumpelstiltskin is not the creature that I believed. He is far more of a human being than he tries to deny. He feels and hurts. I wouldn't have thought that he was so human if he had not allowed me to see within him. Seeing another's past and thoughts are the equivalent of living another's life. I shared in the greatest moments of existence and the heartache of everything in his world being taken. How complicated his life has been. How simple my life was before he came into it.

Captain Smith was the only equivalent of excitement and adventure in the time in my own world. He would have died if I had not spoken to my father and appealed to his sense of humanity. My father had pity and spared him. I did it because I wanted to know more. I craved the knowledge and the ideas that he contained. They were so far from where I was and yet it felt as though I was born to be a part of them.

I dreamed of being in a place that was beyond the clouds and the sea. A place that was not lit by the quiet camp fires and the loudest sound was past the roar of thunder in rumbling storms. It has been a hunger to experience more and I have fully succumbed to it.

I never told Rumpelstiltskin that I am only 17 winters. Of course, I am sure that he has noticed that I am caught between the growth of a child and a woman. I give him small names and I tease him; as though he were a cousin or an uncle. Now, if only he would extend the same attitude towards me that I have; so, I continuously remind myself that we are not family or friends. I don't share with him the true meaning of my name and how as a child, I would stare up at the moon. Until the moonlight itself was trapped within my eyes. Another part of my gifts.

_Who knows how he would interpret these tales…_

Yes, I have several gifts and I discover that their number is without end. My snappy educator doesn't believe that I am aware that he is watching every movement that I make in his home but I see him. He stands in corners and uses his powers to see what I am reading; despite the fact that I am on the other side of his _castle._ If I eat something, he reminds me of it later; especially, if I eat before supper. Although when he gave me permission to leave the stony walls of the fortress, I tried to contain myself.

I walked through the gates and continued at a measured pace. I couldn't be sure if he would follow me to make sure that I stayed out of mischief. Oh, how I wanted to run, to kick up earth and feel the wind streaming across my skin. The sun was so high that I could barely sense its warmth and the clouds were so cruel to keep it away from me. I suspected that all of this had to do with his demeanor though which is quite stormy and troublesome, to say the least.

So, what did I do for three days without him?

I explored. I played the role that I desired so desperately and it was glorious. The spells I used took me out and about. I saw cities that were greater than anything my mind would have created; despite the truth of me already seeing them from visions throughout my childhood. There dragons and ogres and dwarves and banshees and mermaids and fairies. So many things in this world and I am baffled that there are only more worlds to see.

I could have gone on forever. The one lifetime I have would have been spent trying to fill it up with several lives. Nevertheless by the third day, I sensed that returning was the best solution.

That was when I met her. The Blue Fairy. I knew who she was even before she introduced herself. She caught me outside of small town that had a problem with mice and a young man with a flute was helping. I was listening to him play tunes of kings and queens when a flurrying sound caught my ear.

She was above me as I sat on a stony crag. I only looked at her for a moment before nodding quietly. The fairy only huffed at me because I had turned my attention back to the piper. I remember her speaking in a chirped voice.

"You are neither princess, sorceress, nor maiden."

My instincts told me that Skins wouldn't really have liked me talking to her so I only spoke as little as could be considered polite.

"I'm an explorer."

"An explorer?" Her little head cocked from side to side as she eyed me with curiosity. "I have yet to hear of those. Well, do you have a wish? Or are you under a curse?"

"No. I am just sitting here."

"Do you need help?"

"Thank you but I am fine." Her wings fluttered even more rapidly as I bypassed her questions without any expression of neediness. I assumed that she would leave and not return but she was quite persistent.

"Could you use some food or something?"

I had looked at her with interest at that. I knew that she had caught me. I wasn't hungry but I did want something. "Do you have books?"

The tiny features smiled as me warmly and she replied. "I can give you many books. What kind of books do you like?"

"Stories." I was such a child when I answered her. A naïve child sitting on a rock in an emerald green forest. "All kinds of stories."

"With happy endings?"

I watched her flick her wand around. "Any story will do but I would like to hear all stories."

She had laughed absurdly loud at that comment when I said it. "All stories, hmm? My dear, there are stories that have yet to be lived. Hence, yet to be written, but there is one book that I can give you that may satisfy your needs."

"Which book?"

"It's called Happily Ever After." A blue spark shot out of the tip of her wand and a large book appeared before me. The brown cover contrasted brilliantly against the forest floor of moss and reddish ground. My bare feet landed on either side of the book and I reached for it.

"One moment, my dear." She whirled in front of my face and spoke sweetly. "Before I give the book, you must do something for me."

I remembered everything that Skins told me about deals. To begin with, never let them know that it is a deal unless you're the one making it.

"What must I do?" I had smiled and waited patiently as she flew in a small circle above my head.

"I will ask you three questions and if you lie, then you cannot have the book."

A drop in my stomach had warned me about how dangerous this deal could be. I didn't know what she would do if she realized that I wasn't from this world. Possibilities flew around my mind as she had done and I found that all I had to do was not "lie." I didn't have to elaborate on everything but I couldn't lie. So, I took a chance and openly declared that I would answer her questions.

The first question was very basic. "What is your name?"

I told her without any hesitation. "Moon Eyes."

Her wand had glowed a light blue and she seemed satisfied with my response. Her pretty gown wavered in the wind as she finally stopped her flight and landed on the rock that I once had occupied. It took everything in my willpower to not reach down and steal the book.

"Where are you from?"

My throat tightened up but I already how to answer. It was the truth after all. "Hau'aauin' inip."

I wanted to laugh at the sour look on her face as she took in the word and tried to estimate my origins. It was a name that she had never encountered and as the Blue Fairy; she was supposed to know. I felt so clever for tricking such a being.

"Do you have a true love?"

The question was unexpected. I didn't know how to answer so I gave the only one that I could think of. "I don't know. I have never been in love."

"But you will." For once, a wicked grin appeared on her face. "I can tell. Even if I can't tell everything about you; that I can tell."

My own impish attitude got the best of me and the last thing I said to her was, "So, I get the book?"

Without another word, she had vanished on the spot and I was left with a new distraction. My own book. The title was gilded in a worn gold and it was much heavier than I had thought. Yet, once it was under a binding spell and I had made it back to the castle; my whole adventure felt worthwhile.

Even if Skins keeps trying to read the book over my shoulder.

(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)

All she does is read and read that insipid book. I go out to make a deal or two. Settle a war or lift a curse or enact one. I could have ventured out for days and when I return, her nose is still stuck in the middle of that book. If I had estimated that it would be such a distraction in her studies, then I would have thrown that wretched thing out in the first place.

The castle feels warmer somehow. Reminiscent of when Belle was still here. The feeling is not the same; it could never be the same. Belle was unique and extraordinary. Pocahontas is…different. Just different.

I remember that Belle spent the mornings with her nose in a book and a cup of tea. I found Pocahontas walking on the edge of the castle balcony while reading the book. Her petite bare feet were treading around the stone railing and the wind was high. Yet, like a suicidal fool, she just continued to walk back and forth until I threw a curse her way.

Then I saw the student that I always enjoy.

She had sidestepped it and returned one of her own. I only managed to disappear in a haze before returning a moment later. I had thought to appear behind her but when I came to railing; she had already vanished.

I would never tell her but she might be one of the few pawns I have that can make me feel some pride. I have taught her well enough. She may be formidable in every way at some time.

"If you want to read the book, all you have to do is ask."

The bottle of nightshade I held drops from palm. I wait for the smash to erupt and tear the silence of the room but it never arrives. Instead, her hand shoots and grabs it before it is even a step from my hand. Steadily, the shimmery glow of her skin distracts me for a moment.

The tattoos of her skin have changed quite drastically. Upon arrival, I had ordered her to rest and bathe; in order to prepare for the training that was to come. After a few hours, she had come down confused and bewildered. Her same muddy brown dress tied around her body and the ghoulish marks all striking out like fire against her skin. Apparently, she had never operated a bath before; especially, one done by magic.

At first, she had begged me to let her bathe in the stream. For only a moment, I had considered her plea but I needed her to remain in the household. I couldn't be sure that she wouldn't run away and reveal her identity.

Regina would love to get a hold of such a precious morsel and torture it to death.

But after I filled the bath and explained what soap and wash clothes were for; Pocahontas relented. In fact, she remained up there for several hours. Eventually, I had started spinning at my wheel and concluded that I wouldn't see her. Then she had stepped out of the corridor and into the light of the fireplace.

When I had first encountered her, her entire upper face was covered in red and black paint. Her arms had been traced with symbols of a knowledge that left me with a shiver in my bones. Yes, even I had felt something of reverence for her culture. Didn't it produce the woman that had seen my past and future while rendering me incapable; indefinitely, there is something in it that this is quite powerful.

However, seeing her plain features and downy skin without its layers of liquid adornment was quite baffling. She was lovely, from the top of her silky black hair to the rounded arch of her always naked soles. I had conjured dresses for her but she always refused them; I gave up and settled for giving her wraps of soft fabrics. She had been so pleased about these new clothes that she had proceeded to undress right in front of my eyes. I hesitated about telling her that it wasn't proper for her to be naked so willingly while a male was present but her eyes were so guiltless, so open to anything.

I instead excused myself and continued on the curse I was working on.

Since then I find that I examine her whenever she is around. Despite the colors that had faded away with warm water and soup, there are still marks pervading large measures of her skin. Her fingertips are kept a dark purple-blue color. Long lines and fat dots range around her thighs. Bands of red ink are around her slender wrists. Even her feet hold tiny little circles on every toe; the bottoms of her feet are also an odd orange hue.

All of she is seems to draw the eyes of wonderment.

"Skins?"

But now she brings me back to reality. I grab the jar she holds out and parade away to the cabinet, I left open. "You read that book far too much, dearie."

"I've already read all of your spell books and history books."

I love it when she opens herself for a challenge like that. I look over at her and see that she's chosen green velvet to wear. It suits the atmosphere in the room. Literally, it is freezing and still, she won't wear shoes. Yet, the challenge of her knowledge is still out there.

"What is the third step in a sleeping drought?"

Quickly, she reassesses my words and I know that she is prepared for anything. "If it is a drought of permanent sleep, then the third step is to soak lavender stems and add the hair of the intended victim. However, if it is a drought of death-sleep then you must add the blood of the victim, a lock of their hair, and a tear of hate."

I nod along and try not to curse into oblivion. No one likes a know-it-all.

"Who was the second ogre king in the Great War of the Middleland Kingdom?"

If I were an honest soul, I would admit that I don't even know that answer.

"Awljix the Rank and his second in command was his sister, Urla."

Like an overly large lion, she leaps onto the table. I would expect all beakers and glasses to fall into a broken heap. However, not even the liquids are disturbed by her actions. Lithely, she steps around and over anything that deters her path. I try to pick up a quill and finish my binding theory for the "curse."

I scratch onto the parchment in slow deliberate lettering. My eyes go between the yellowed surface and wet ink to side-stepping slim ankles. Her long feet barely seem to touch the table. I have to wonder if she's using a floating charm to remain so graceful. Then out of the corner of my vision, I see her toe tap against the corner of the ledger I was copying from.

Not even bothering to face her, my impish voice drawls. "Something on your mind, dearie?"

"I thought you were questioning me about your books."

A giggle at her childish ways only makes my smile wider. I grab the foot that was attacking my papers and I hold onto it. Looking up at her, I notice how this position of stance has exposed quite a bit of skin on her leg. The curve of her thigh is almost harsh in its denture of muscle. However, the caramel brown skin and baby fat allow her a woman's shape. My long claws around her ankle only contrast how much of a creature I must appear to her. A monster grasping onto another fated beauty.

"That's no reason to be jumping onto tables." An idea that takes no more than a second to conjure is put into action. "Let's see what else you've learned."

Pulling her limb towards me, I expect her to fall. I expect a crunch of bone. A scrape of skin. Blood. I want blood and tears. But not her. Instead, she falls how she wishes to her.

With legs stretched out, she catches herself on the table. Both hands hoist her up and in a remarkable twist of fate. Strong legs entwine themselves around me for balance. Automatically, I hold onto her hips and more of her is exposed to me as the wrap unfolds further.

Admittedly, our bodies and heads are much closer than I would prefer. Sadly enough, I realize this as my breath and hers combine. Those brilliant eyes of hers only stare with that trademark curiosity.

"At least, you've learned how to catch yourself, dearie." Her chest heaves and lips stay opened in hushed breath, "I wouldn't want a clumsy apprentice."

"I wouldn't have to be so practiced if there weren't people trying to so hard to bring me down."

Then just like that, her legs loosen. Yet, I'm not through with her. My hands slide down from slightly round hips and grip behind her knees. If it were possible, I believe her eyes have darkened. Only the underbelly of hell can be that dark.

Leaning forward, I whisper into a pierced ear. "Careful, dearie. It may have yet to dawn on you that you are a woman. A very beautiful and enticing woman that is no longer in her world that plays by her rules."

She has no fear. I can read it in every aspect of her being. Can nothing make her afraid?

"Pocahontas." I kiss her hair. The scent of it is overpowering in its subtle mix of mint and water. She is sweet and pure. Definitely, not a being of this world. Even Snow White lacks the fearlessness that Pocahontas has. She can walk through hell and dance with the devils but still return to living with angels as if she were one.

My tongue runs down the length of her delicate neck. The tendons show as she lays her head to the side and gives me more access. My fangs tickle across her neck; the goosebumps begin to show as I give in to a part of myself that has been fighting for her.

My desire and my need to feel human once again. The only curse that is a daily torment.

Biting down near her jugular, a most exquisite sound erupts from her full lips. I try to remember when I last heard a woman moan in such delight. So full and unhinged. Oh, this one might not be able to devastate me but she could break something inside of me.

The dark eyed beauty only makes more delicious noises as I place slow and hard kisses against her skin. In the curve of her high bosom. The hollow of her neck. Across her small chin to her-

"Wait." Her voice booms against my mouth and I hold back from that final act. Those same eyes lighten up and go back to black. My mouth feels a little dry from the anticipation that had unconsciously been building up. For a moment, I consider ignoring her protests until she speaks again.

"What about Belle?" The rugged accent has become so soft as she says these words. "You love her. You will always love her."

Immediately, the sentiment of loss burns inside my throat like unshed vomit. "She's dead, dearie. She's never coming back. Completely gone. Dead."

I drop those legs as if she were no more than wasted filth. I want to be angry at her. I want to curse her into oblivion and rip the very flesh her bones. Anything to get away from the guilt and regret that she reminds me that I carry. I watch her tuck herself away as though I had taken her in the most grotesque of manners. She says nothing but holds herself high and walks to the door. Her arms reach out for the heavy wooden panel and begin to push towards her freedom. Already, I turn back to my work and losing myself within it.

"Nonetheless." Pocahontas reels her voice out as if it were thunder. She, the goddess, and I, the pitiful mortal. "Dead or not. You are hers, and I am not yours. If you wanted me, then you should have taken me that night we first met. At least then it would have been a fair trade."

Her expression transcends the coldness of the stars and their hollow space. It is the not empty void of innocence taken and used. It is not cheap exploitation of beauty. Far worse than any of those things. It is goodness accepting that there are some things that cannot be changed. My evilness is one of them and so is her immunity to my corruption.

What I don't say to her is what is locked up and kept deep inside the remnants of my heart. The last piece of beauty that I can call mine. The words that I should have said but as always, I am the coward and never the hero.

What I still wish to say.

"You are more than just another deal, my dear."


	4. Wake Up Call

**Wake-Up Calls**

I don't see her again.

She returns to her park and its mundane tending. I hear about it during my quaint visits to Granny's via town gossip that Astor Moon will not return for months. Several months. However, I was not counting on someone else coming to the town. _Distractions can be very deadly if you don't take care._

Emma. The 'savior.' The child of Charming and Snow White. The one who was destined to turn the tide of magic.

The best part of it is that Regina is without power, but not myself. I owe it all to Emma. Currently, she is trying to suppress a mob from going to Regina's home and burning her at the stake. That sheriff certainly has her hands full this morning.

The years have passed and all that waiting for her were not a waste. She is all that I imagined her to be. That curse was one of my better creations; after all, she is the product of the events that led up to it. Meaning that I am most definitely a part of her construction.

"One more?" The barely covered waitress/wolf glares at me with her coffee pot in hand. I don't have to look up from my morning paper to know the visual hate that is being wasted on me. I open my hand and gesture to the emptied cup. The porcelain stained filthy with coffee and cream awaits her pouring. I look at that and yet I see nothing happening.

"Dearie, are you waiting for inspiration or something? How about not getting a tip?"

I don't have to sink too deep into my mind for another remark but I immediately put it away when I see her face. The little Red is utterly perplexed. Eyes as wide as the corpse that didn't see its coming and lays with the morbid expression of complete surprise. So I follow her line of vision and find that I really wish that I hadn't done that. It's Ast- No, it's her. Actually, her. Pocahontas.

She is passing by the window of the diner. Her hair is shorn short at her neck. A knife and tomahawk grace her hands. Through the blinds and the sunlight, I spot torn jeans that stop just at mid thigh. A sleeveless t-shirt swiped by gore. Blood and something else. Upon closer inspection, I see that there is nothing beneath her shirt but familiar grave markings of ink.

The sudden inclination of avoiding her is quite foreign and I find myself grimacing at the emotion. I haven't experienced cowardice at another's presence in thousands of years. However, I have good reason to, for her sake. Because I can remember how all of us came to be here, and it wasn't solely through my talent or Regina's. It required a price, like all magic does, but someone else paid it for the rest of us.

Pocahontas paid.

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_The time of the curse is upon us._

_Breathing down my neck and reminding me of how crucial everything is in finding Bae._

_I can't fail this. I must finish the curse. I must find something to bind it. _

_Originally, the problem was bottling true love but with Snow White's help, I have solved that little slip. There should be nothing else standing in my way, yet there is. With half of the curse constructed for this world and the other half almost completed; a complication has emerged. Something has to bind the worlds together._

_The curse will sit, so to speak, on a connection between this world and the other. It needs a bridge to pass us over but I have not found a way of holding it. An object is much too liable to be found and destroyed. Such an action would completely disintegrate the curse; no matter how powerful it is. Another spell could not fulfill the need for power that is required. I am quite fortunate to have a specimen such as Regina to cast the curse, only she could do it._

_I have made certain of that._

_However, the major difficulty is in finding something that is of both worlds. The main requirement is the most impossible to fill. An object would be possible to procure but not safe enough to use. There is no spell that can be used so directly. _

_Unfortunately, my apprentice has been much less enthused in aiding me. Pocahontas does help but it is only with half the vigor that she once possessed. I find her to have gained a stubborn silence that does not befit her and I don't have the strength to rid her of it. However, let her have a temper. It may serve me in the future._

_Like Regina, I appear to have created another creature born of despair and anger._

_Pocahontas has been useful. She has scoured through my spell books, even the ones that I had originally hidden, and has produced very interesting results. An experimental potion in resisting the effect of non-magic atmosphere has been very fascinating. She began that after finishing my library, both open and private; and I find it to be the sort of work that rivals my own studies in dark magic. Her intelligence, unlike her mood, obviously is the only thing not affected by our strained relationship as master and apprentice._

_This morning, she claimed that she had a surprise for me. It was a sullen announcement that had all the excitement that only a rock could produce. I had only nodded and decided that when she was ready, she would reveal this grandiose. She is unimpressed enough by all that I do._

_At the moment, I stand in the lab and stare at the evening sky. Somewhere out there, Regina is preparing to take her father's heart. The thing she loves most in this world. Once she has it, she will expect us to cast the curse. I am trying to discover how I will make it this curse happen when I do not even have the means of providing a basic paradigm for the spell's connection._

_The warm night makes me sweat through my leather vest. Sticky. I don't particularly enjoy the sensation. I pull it away from the drenched shirt and my mottled flesh. Stress has always caused me to perspire somewhat more than usual._

"_It is warm, isn't it?" The young apprentice leans against the corner of the wall as she seats herself on the window sill. "You should consider lighter clothes, Rumpelstiltskin."_

_Another quirk that I had noticed. No more sickeningly cute nicknames. She is all business these days. "I am not a little chit that parades around naked and shoeless. I am the Dark One, dearie."_

"_A sweaty Dark One."_

_I surpass the desire to shove her out of the window and instead snarl. "Have you nothing better to do with your time?"_

"_No, not really." A very wistful glance carries over to her concentrating on the night sky through the glass. "I have a component for the binding. It will work and it will be permanent."_

_A leap and a clap accompanied by a giggle are all that I manage before taking closer examination of her. Pocahontas is not as pleased as me. She is pensive and I know that expression. She wants a deal._

"_You have done well, my magnificent apprentice. I knew you wouldn't disappoint."_

"_Did you, now?"_

_For once, in several hundred years, I shut up and merely watch her as if she were the most amusing pet to be had. I look forward to playing her game._

"_It will not be cheap." Her tepid stare remains as she turns to face the open space beside herself. "I have terms."_

"_You have terms? What sort of price for a little magic?"_

"_It is not a little magic. It is myself." I know that my gaze has widened even if she talks as though I were only a ghost. "I can bind the spell."_

_Her hair hangs over the edge and I touch it lightly. If the opportunity arises, I may need a strand. Distraction is needed though, of course. "Pray tell, clever girl, which book taught you how to use such magic?"_

_The pretty face shakes back and forth with a tiny smile; as if I had just said something riddled with naivety. "Your books don't contain everything. They certainly do not have this spell. It is magic from my world and you failed to mention that we were going there."_

_I have no time to affirm if that is to be the world that we will be occupying. I won't argue with her about this though if that is what she wants to believe._

"_But with hair, or is it blood? An incantation?" I have to question how such a spell would even exist in her world. Her people existed in a way that doesn't afford them the luxury of studying magic so how can she know this? Possibilities of trickery and betrayal flicker instantly in my mind but I know that she isn't that foolish._

_A hand on mine freezes me and my thinking. Her eyes peer into me and I can almost feel the immense sadness inside of her. It is much deeper than I had believed it to be; maybe I wounded her in a way that I hadn't expected._

"_None of that." She releases me and I let go of the thick strands of her hair. "It's an old practice that takes something this world doesn't have."_

"_Care to elaborate, dearie?"_

_Sighing softly, she puts her hand on me again. This time, the copper skinned girl holds onto my shoulder. "Sacrifice, willing sacrifice."_

_Her long fingers trace a long scar on the inside of her forearm. "My blood is in the earth of my world. It held me to it and empowered me. If I do the same ceremony here then technically, I will be bridged between both worlds. So, if you add my blood to the curse then you will have a connector between here and there. That world will be the destination because of this binding ingredient."_

_Brilliant. My breath catches in my throat and my maniacal giggle erupts. "You are the missing ingredient-"_

"_My terms, Rumpelstiltskin. I need you to agree to three things before I bind myself to this."_

_Yes, she had mentioned this. Licking my lips and rubbing my hands together, I prepare for it. I am the picture of anticipation while she only stares me down with defensiveness. Her hand has already dropped from my person but I don't notice until she is directly facing me._

"_After I bind the curse, you will always tell me the truth."_

_I think to myself and already internally remark that it doesn't have to be the complete truth. Very well._

"_You will not be able to kill or harm those that I hold dear."_

_Again, something that is entirely up to interpretation._

"_And when I choose to go home-"_

_My moment to interject. "If you choose to go home."_

_She passes me over with her words as though I were empty space. "-you will not interfere." _

_I would protest but she hardly allows me to do so. _

"_The curse will last as long as I live. You know that once I bind myself to this, I will be immortal. Just as you are."_

_There are no hesitations on my part over her life span. Let her live and die as she pleases._

"_I do not worry about harm coming to me because I don't believe that you are willing to let the spell lift so easily."_

_The little minx knows me all too well. I should have been more careful. Except she doesn't know about Bae and she doesn't know about everything else. Pocahontas only guesses about what I will do and she has led herself to believe that I intend for this curse to be permanent. This will be an interesting turn of events._

"_Sounds like you've got yourself a deal, dearie."_

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I remember that night as if it had only last passed. That deal was made before I was taken away to the dungeons; caught by a clever trap initiated by Snow White and her Charming. Of course, I knew what their trickery was to be and I also knew that it had to be that way. If not, then none of this would be as I have planned.

My breath hitched in my throat and with my cane in hand, I step towards the door. People are in a frenzy inside the diner. I hear their questions about her identity and her seemingly insane appearance. The first thing to be done is to get her off the streets and away from the others. I know Pocahontas, she doesn't deal too easily with crowds; especially in concern to the royal family. She often had quite the aversion for anyone within a monarchy.

I brace myself for anything that she has to throw at me. One hand on the door knob. I quickly mumble to myself, "I love you, Belle."

Pulling the door open, I grimace at my leg pain as I cross the front yard. I utter one last sentiment, "I love you, Bae."

The brown skinned sorceress is already past the stop sign at the corner. Cars squeak in their attempts to brake and miss. She gives them no notice. I can't tell what she came into the town for. There are no grudges to settle if I am recalling everything correctly. She was quite the warrior when it came to hand to hand combat but she couldn't use a sword in any manner. When I had seen her face, it looked stricken as if she were afflicted with some sort of ailment.

But as she stalks off, I see no sign of pain in her step. A young man approaches her from one of the thrift shops. His blue jeans and white shirt make him seem like a bright angel and her, a hellish demon. The youthful demeanor and desire to help make him all the more innocent to my eyes; such things could get a person killed. I strain to catch up with her without attracting attention because I worry about this interaction.

"Miss?" He walks after her when she passes him without any reaction. "Miss, are you okay?"

Then she halts. I do the same and something inside me is wound tight with dread at her presence. Quickly, I shake myself out of it and continue my pursuit. Winded and limping, I struggle while keeping all focus on her.

She turns to him and I see why his concern was so evident. Tears and blood cloud her features. I don't know how I hadn't seen that detail. The sticky liquid is clotted over her hands and neck. The source of all this fluid would be the question of anyone and immediately, I fear that it could be someone else's.

"Okay?" That low accent growls inside the words as though she were fighting a beast within. "Okay? Does- this- look- ok?"

By every word, a cut is drawn on her. The blade in her hand flashes high as she raises it to her cheek, her thigh, her arm, or shoulder. With a flick, a gash opens and with another raise of her arm, all wounds heal automatically. The knife though is dyed red and is now dripping blood as though it were a soaked paintbrush. Almost caught up to them, I start to wave at him before she gets further into her whirl but I can see her lips moving faster than I can reach them.

She slaps the bloody weapon across his face, yelling in her native tongue. _"Dog! Dirty dog! What have you done? What have all of you done?"_

The young man had staggered away and now stands looking at her incredulously. I lunge forward between them and grab her by the nape of her neck. "Look at me! Look at me! Moon, concentrate, dearie!"

That did it. Her name and my usage of dear. Some remnant of sanity returns to her eyes. The tearstained face puckers up into an alternative mask of grief. The long hair is truly gone. I fully realize that now as I run my fingers through the remains. It is shagged and choppy. She probably cut it with that same knife she holds. I sink my fingers down to her wrist. My sweaty palm almost slips onto the sharp blade as I navigate it from her fingers and their slimy grip.

"Rumpelstiltskin." She falls into me and I prepare myself for it as she begins to weeps against my shoulder. "Rum. They are all dead. All of them."

My mind tries to imagine what could possibly have happened. I pet the short strands on the back of her neck. The spiky feel of them keeps me from falling into a stupor. "Who? Who is dead, dearie?"

Then her crying ceases just as quickly as it had began. The red rimmed eyes are upturned as she is only a breath away. I stare down at her and the same bold fury that had emblazoned is burning once again. It takes my breath away to see such raw power that surpasses Regina's and mine.

"My family! My people! They're dead." Whispering it to me with an incredibly ugly smile on her, she shoves me. "They were killed and not so quickly. They suffered."

I keep a hold of the knife. She twirls around with the tomahawk in hand and I try to calculate how to get that from her as well. Then as if she knows my thoughts, she points the weapon at me accusingly. "Did you know? Did you know before we came here?"

Our deal flashes in the back of my mind. I note that our guest has left. Probably running to get the sheriff and her annoying family; meaning that we only have minutes to get off of the streets. I lean on my cane as if I were having a perfectly normal conversation with an absolutely harmless non-magical being. She cannot know how much of a danger she is; not yet, at least.

"No. I was not aware of the fate that had befallen your people."

Her lower lip trembles in a manner of anguish and I find it very hard to keep my pity in check. Even as she asks another question with her arm still raised against me. "I know that you cannot lie to me so I won't bother with distrusting you but why this? Why now?"

Oh, that is a touchy one. I can't tell her about my son. I could never be sure if she could be trusted. I construct the simplest explanation that I can think of. "The queen wanted a realm where there were no happy endings for her ene-"

"Your enemies as well."

I nod politely. "Our enemies. Some of those enemies possessed a great deal of magic and so in order for the curse to work, they had to be taken to a realm that had none. You know this, my apprentice."

"I do but I have to ask again since I have the opportunity of you not being able to twist anything."

"Very astute, dearie. You were never one to be played out of the game." I bow my head to her and take a moment before suggesting, "As you are also aware of, we are not exactly unknown anymore. There are still those that would seek to imprison both of us."

"Snow White. The prince. The Blue Fairy. But none of them know about me."

Finally, I walk up to her. Her brown eyes do not hinder themselves with surprise or fear; only grief. That is the entirety of what she is capable of right now. I can smell it on her; only someone who has lost something so precious would be able to sympathize with her and I do. Unfortunately, all of that sympathy will have to wait for another time. I offer her my arm and she takes it. I speak softly to her so that only she hears as my magic takes us to my shop.

"I would like to keep it that way."


	5. The Past Catches Up to Us All

**The Past Catches Up to Us All**

We emerge inside my office. The usual order of antiquities stored away in cabinets with my desk at the center of the room. I don't have any sense of embarrassment as she was my apprentice for several years. Except that was all time spent inside my castle.

"Would you like something to drink?" I lay down my cane and hobble over to the coffeemaker.

The bright orange top of the coffee pot stands out child-like and silly for such an adult drink. I know of no children in this land that enjoy coffee; even though it is a much sought after delicacy in my land. I open the top of the plastic machine and scoop the grounds in. I enjoy the Ethiopian mix or the Sumatra, especially on those late nights when I cannot close my eyes without seeing Bae. Although not everyone lives on the strong brew like myself; I shut the lid and return my attention to my forlorn companion.

She looks like a bloody axe murderer.

The tattoos seem more vivid in this land. I can't explain the reason why. Her hair is a mess, all dirty and stringy. My nose can only smell dried blood and the unmistakable muskiness of female sweat. It is all that comes from her as she slumps down in the pillowed chair at the front of my desk. I almost cringe at the thought of her staining the cushions. How easily I forget that I have magic- Ah yes, that is what I wanted to talk to her about.

"If you're not thirsty, are you hungry, dearie?" I take my own seat opposite of her. She makes no motion of affirmation. She stares steadily off into the distance as though she herself were already deceased with her people. "Pocahontas?"

Taking another breath and probably realizing that I was talking to her, she speaks brokenly. "I don't want anything-"

A sob crushes whatever she had planned to say. Her body locks itself into a vice of agony. Arms over the other and she hugs herself as though she is the only comfort that exists in this world. Her sounds are so ragged that I wonder if I had every wept so openly for anyone like this.

Watching her struggle only heightens my need for aid. Yes, even in this moment of excruciating grief, I need her and I need her to be able. I won't get by without her help. Using my good leg, I am able to go around and stand next to her. Taking her into my arms is not an option. My only opposition to the idea is that she won't accept it and I don't want to take any chances of her fighting against me or fleeing. That small embrace in the street might be the extent of her need for physical comfort.

Yet I place one hand on her shoulder. The warmness of her skin contrasts sharply against the low temperature of my dry hand. The telling sign that she feels my coldness is the small jerk of surprise. Softly, she sighs and sniffles in calming herself. "Why didn't I see this, why didn't I know what was going to happen?"

It's not a question for me to answer and so I simply listen as she speaks between the streams of tears. "I should have known, shouldn't I? I mean, I see every damn thing that is to come and I missed this. I left them here, Skins. My father, my people. I left them and went off to some other realm while they stayed and were slaughtered. Can you even imagine how it was for them? The diseases that killed off entire nations. The wars that made slaves out of us. All of that and I was tucked away, safe and sound, wasting time over someone else's obsession."

A cracking sound makes us both halt. I spot the tomahawk on the ground next to the bathroom door. She must have set it on the edge of the shelf. Leaning down to survey it, I notice how old it is. My mind searches for some sort of logical explanation.

"Dearie," Plucking it from the ground, I hold the piece away from me. For some odd reason that I can't explain, it almost feels wrong to even touch it. "Where did you get this?"

"It was my father's."

Impossible. I look it over. Some sort of rounded stone is attached to the end. At least, I think it's a stone; the end is so weathered that it looks as though it may crumble with the slightest impact. The handle is just as worn and my hand feels sullied by it. I pass a finger over the surface and understand why my hand feels so oily; there is blood on the handle from her. "Is all of this blood yours?"

Her head lilts to the side, nodding. "I was trying to mourn, but it seems your little curse won't let me "harm" myself. Just have to settle for keeping my hair short."

Her tradition and culture were subjects that we had only broached upon when it interfered with the duties I needed her for. But over the years, we never discussed it. Maybe I should have asked more questions when I had the opportunity. "How did you get this exactly?"

"It called to me. When I was a little girl, my father braided a single strand of my hair in the handle." Picking at it now, I do believe that the handle is rawhide. I don't interrupt her story though she remains tucked down. "I told him that if he always kept that at his side then no harm would come to him. Then _they_ came and he buried it. Just so they could be convinced that we meant them no harm. He should have kept it with him."

An acrid noise of hate rips my attention away from the weapon. "We should have killed them when we had the chance."

Her magic rips an entire shelf off the wall. I stumble back from being hit with the heavy piece of oak. She is already standing and using her lengthened reach of power to damage everything in sight. I cast the remnants of my strength to a protection spell over the cabinet across the small room. Antiquities that I had cherished are shattered. Books begin to go up into flame and ash. I pray that the state of the art sprinkler system remains at bay until her temper dies down.

"Murderers! Rapists! Fucking bastards!" A snow globe boils into a bubbling mass of glass onto the wood floor. "How could they do it? How could they kill them-"

Another compass is crumbled up. I hear its clank as it is thrown at my direction. Suddenly, her magic seizes my wrists and I decide that protecting that cabinet is far more important than me; I allow the captivity.

"And you." Her glowing powers reveal themselves in an eerie green glow as I'm lifted from my wrenched position, dangling in front of her like a fish on a hook. "You didn't know and you aren't one of them. Be damned grateful for that."

I cannot move a single digit. I try to grasp my fingers together and find that I am quite lucky to still be breathing. Her binding spell is much stronger than it had been in the other realm; I can only surmise it to her being in her own realm. I had suspected that this would be the effect of her returning here.

"Dearie, you should know better than to use your magic on me."

Her head tilts sideways as though she had never seen me at all. "You're right. There's something wrong here. Why aren't you defending yourself?"

She uses her other hand to detect others. Objects start shooting out of nooks and crannies. Then as she turns her hand to the green cabinet, she freezes. "What could be so important that you're willing to let me put you under a binding spell?"

A small tap of her fingers and my spell is broken. I feel my strength return but it isn't enough to fight her. Terror and anger combine into one. My terror of what will happen when she discovers the truth and my outrage at her even being able to contain me. Pocahontas continues to look at me for an answer.

I struggle as I speak. I didn't realize how tightly she had bound me; my lungs can barely fill with air. "There are things in there that I would prefer you didn't touch."

She slowly opens the glass door and peers throughout the items. The Hatter's hat. A box of fairy dust. The Fairy Godmother's wand. I watch her eyes go from one to the other. Her features are blank and without any open interest at what she had just seen.

"That is what you are so worried about? As if I need your little trinkets." She directs me to the chair that she had formerly occupied. "You are going to sit for now."

Literally, I am dropped down. My knee hits against the desktop and as I grab onto it, she yanks me back by my collar. "There is so much that you are keeping from me. If you didn't need something from me, you would have captured me right off. That's leaves two options for why you didn't."

I rub at my leg absently as she sits on the edge of my furniture. Her bare limbs ripple with exertion as she leans heavily away from me. Still in reaching distance but it's for her benefit; not mine.

"One option is that you need my willing participation in something. The other option is that your power is weak." Her body comes forward and I am forced to sit back. "Which is it?"

"You mean you don't know, dearie?"

"Oh, I have a guess. I think that it's both. You've got nothing but you can't have everyone knowing that, can you?" She stands straight up with a smirk. I watch her feet crunch down on glass without any sense of pain. "They would kill you undoubtedly, and who would blame them."  
I have to laugh at how easily she takes herself out of the picture. "And you? You truly believe that they won't come after you, Moon?"

"Doesn't matter. I have power. You don't." Her pretty face is still as expressionless as a corpse deep in rest. The only life is the fire in her eyes and bitterness in her voice. "Are you without magic?"

The inclination to lie fades off and I am left with the truth weighing heavily on my windpipe. My voice weak and hoarse as I struggle to lie; I fall short. "Not entirely. I have ways of using magic but it is nowhere near what I was once able to do."

"And you won't use any of these objects because you don't want to feel weak and you certainly don't want Regina to know that you are going without. True?"

I give a stiff nod at that. She really is much too clever for her own good. A hand rips a strand of hair from my head and I grab the spot in annoyance. "I could have given that to you!"

"Why wait for it when I can take it?"

Now I know that was rhetorical question and nothing else. She has learned cruelty so effortlessly and I don't like it in any way. An orange glow from her hands lights up the room. My hair twirls in the beam. Braiding itself into a large ball until she spins it around with her fingers' motions. I wait for it to become something more, something brilliant. After all, her magic is quite different from mine.

Finally, it is formed and as her hands close around it, I smell burning. The item is held away from me until her eyes flash over with more green. Then as she reveals it to me, I find that I have been overestimating my apprentice. It's a mere branch of blackberries. I must seem confused because she takes them away from my inquisitive stare.

"You'll need to eat these. All of them. It should replenish your magic."

"Indefinitely?" She hands them to me and I hold one up to the lamp on my desk. It appears to be a normal blackberry. "There is no limit to this spell?"

"That depends. It should be as though you have your old magic back. You'll be able to do everything you did before and you'll get tired as you did before but it will replenish." Then I sense the hitch in her spell. "You see, there is only one way that your magic will be completely wasted again and that's if you use it all once."

I pop one into my mouth and realize that this is going to be a very sweet snack. "What do you mean by that?"

"What I mean is that if you were to do a very taxing spell; like attempting a portal spell or the curse that got us here. It would take a sacrifice of your entire magic; of course, I am quite confused about you being the Dark One and even being at this level of weakness."

I remain blank-faced and ignore her barb. "Am I still stronger than Regina?"

I don't have to look at her to know that she's getting very upset with my questions. "Of course. Although, I really wouldn't know since I have never actually met the woman."

Snapping at her with only one morsel left in my palm. "Be thankful for that. She's not as pleasant as myself, dearie."

"Ah yes. Very fortunate then." The sarcasm rolls around in her voice. "Speaking of that, did you ever mention me to her?"

With magic swirling in my veins once again, I heal the bruise on my leg. I locate by pressing down until a specific area starts to throb. "No. She is unaware of your involvement and I think that it would be best if we kept it that way."

"Right, right. As if I give a damn any-"

"Rum?"

Moon and I both turn towards the third voice. It is moments like this that I have been trying to avoid.

Belle.

Standing in the doorway with horror written all over her lovely features. "What happened to your office?"


	6. A Friend?

**A Friend?**

"Umm, I'm-"

"She's a-

"Moon."

"Friend."

Rumplestiltskin talks with the same smooth practiced tone that we have both gained from lying so much. I know who she is. I remember seeing that face and those eyes in his memories. The only part that is shocking me is that she is supposed to be dead. Unless he has found a way to bring the dead back to life.

I whip around to him with a spark of hope and just as I look at him with curiosity-

"Regina had her."

He already knew what I meant. Inwardly, I curse myself at even considering the idea. It's so unnatural and my father would have never stood for it but I would have. I will do anything to see them once again.

"Moon, why don't you stay here and 'clean up' the place."

His cane appears in his hands as though it were always at his side and hadn't been on the other side of the room. "I am going to take Belle to lunch and then you can finish your 'task' at my estate. Would you like me to bring you something back?"

_How can he even think that I have an appetite for anything?_ I refuse by moving my head side to side. Rumpelstiltskin doesn't ask again and tries to usher his prize through the door. She, on the other hand, has something to say about that.

"Are you sure?" Her bright blue eyes seem quite harsh against her gentle face though they shine without any dislike. "He doesn't keep much food at his home. You might want to consider taking something back for later."

Belle is trying to be friendly and I also suspect that she is trying to detect if I am a danger to her or him. I try to smile and I know it is far from perfect. "Well, in that case, he could bring me back a cheeseburger with everything on it and extra French fries."

"Will do." He moves so quickly through the door. "C'mon, love."

The young girl remains there, coat in hand, and stares at me. I look at my own hands and realize why she looks so startled. All that blood is still on me. I put my hands behind my back and Rum swiftly returns to grab her. I watch them go out the front door. The sign on there is still turned to "Closed." Letting out a sigh that was being held unconsciously, I collapse to the ground and start to pray.

"Please let this be a nightmare."

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"Rum, who is that girl?"

Belle has asked that question at least three times since we walked from the shop to here. I had bypassed it by ignoring the question outright or playing deaf. However, face to face in one of the diner booths doesn't allow me those luxuries of ignorance. I have to deal with this question and I am very unsure of how to do it.

I look at Belle with her innocence and goodness. Everything is so uncomplicated to her and so novel. She doesn't see the world as it is, she only sees me as the hitch in her beliefs. I am the only thing that is complicated and wonderful at the same time. I want to protect her from becoming like Regina and me but it is very difficult. I don't want to tell her the truth about it all and yet I know that I cannot lie to her forever.

She must have decided that I've taken too long because she's scooting off.

"Belle, where are you going?"

Her tone is very offended and the dark brown coat only magnifies her seriousness. "Back to the shop. Maybe Moon will answer my questions since you won't."

"Wait, please." I have to try to not laugh at her, my dear girl. I realize now why she is so uptight about this; Belle is jealous of Moon. "I will answer anything that you have to ask but let me start by clarifying that the girl is only a friend."

"You always told me that you had no friends."

Once I see her start to lean towards her original spot in the booth, I begin to slow down the conversation. "In our realm, that is true and I didn't lie to you about that. I had no friends except you but in this land, she might have been something like that."

She grabs my hand from across the table and pulls on it imploringly. "Then who is she? What happened to her?"

As she removes her coat and the young wolf-girl brings out waters; I try to imagine what I can tell her. My apprentice was never terribly open with me. Her stories were more like statements. Moon missed things and she yearned for a change in scenery. She was remarkably adept at magic. All of these are things that I can praise her for but not a single thing will explain the scene in my office without unraveling everything else.

My lips purse tighter as I stumble over memories of Moon. I find something that I feel is safe to tell for this conversation. "She was an apprentice of mine after I thought you were-"

Belle looks at me with the saddest expression and I grasp both of her hands to kiss them. "I was very upset after that. I made many deals with many people. However, one evening, I came upon Moon. She had a natural gift with magic, you see, and she wanted to make a deal."

"What did she want?"

Carefully, I choose my words as I maintain eye contact with her dapper stare. "Her village was sick and she wanted me to cure them of what ailed them. I suppose she was like you in that way. She was someone wanting to be a hero."

Belle smiles graciously. It is very worthwhile to make her do that. I will never tire of seeing that pleased expression on her face and with a gentle squeeze, she urges me on.

"I made the deal and that is how she became my apprentice. She was a quick learner and very quickly, I realized that she was more trouble than she was worth. I remember that she was usually in and out of the castle."

Our waitress stops my story. She takes our orders with a nice voice for Belle and a very gruff one for me. I don't blame her. I haven't treated her granny or her with the best intentions but they still have a roof over their heads. I start to sip at the water until Belle brings the story back.

"You let her out of the castle?" That is a detail that shocks the beauty to no end. "You never let me out of the castle."

There is no wound or hurt in her statement. It is a plain observation. I hadn't thought of it before but she is right. I can't deny that I did give Moon very different treatment than Belle.

"Perhaps, it was because I wasn't willing to lose you so easily." We take a moment to treasure the sentiment before I say. "Moon, on the other hand, couldn't be kept inside for too long."

She searches my face for an answer before shaking her head in confusion.

"Moon has space issues. She doesn't like rooms." That is as close to the truth as I can get. "But she was an excellent apprentice. Never faltered at anything-"

"Did she know about the curse?"

My nerves flare up. We're on the very subject that I had hoped to get around without actually addressing it. "Yes, she did. She had no part in it though she did know about it."

My love nods and just like that, our food is in front of us. I have to admit that Granny can cook fast when she wants to. Normally though it seems that she will cook with the speed of a wraith if it will get me out of her establishment sooner. I try to catch Ruby's attention but she brushes past me.

Belle understands when I raise my arm and stops the hooded waitress in her tiny shorts. "Could we have an order, Ruby?"

The cheeky girl snaps her gum. "You mean an order to go? Sure, Belle."

"A cheeseburger with everything on it and extra French fries will do. Thanks, Ruby."

The tall waitress smiles at her and completely ignores me. I don't even look up from my water cup. Instead, I stare out the window and hope that Moon hasn't decided to destroy the town.

Yet.

"Why didn't you tell me about her before this?" The question is simple enough but I feel a dagger is waiting underneath if I don't approach it properly.

I remain with my eyes staring out the window. "It was irrelevant. She was just an apprentice and I didn't know if I was ever going to cross paths with her again. Now that we have- I don't know what to do."

"Well, what does she want? You'll have to tell her that you are trying to avoid using magic."

Another detail that I despise acknowledging because it could easily unravel a very grave fact that I am doing my utmost to hide. I grit my teeth and answer anyway. "She doesn't need magic. She needs her family, her people."

Warmth lights up in Belle's eyes and I know she likes what she's hearing. "Where is her family?"

"Dead. Centuries ago."

Just as it had erupted in a single beam, the light of hope disappears just as quickly from my heaven's eyes. "Is it because of the curse-"

"No." I close my eyes and try to think of how to make the entire ordeal sound less morbid. However, are there any pleasant means of explaining this? No, there aren't. I open my eyes to Belle's beautiful face and express it in the simplest way. "No, they died a very long time ago but when the curse was cast, Moon didn't know that- that her family was already gone."

Belle begins in a very unfamiliar manner. She speaks and stumbles. "Is- Was- How? How did her family-"

Her hands gesture at what she is implying. I watch the small hands and slim fingers with admiration. The soft ivory skin glows in the bleakness of midday. Her eyes are full of concern for my beaten down apprentice. I will always be amazed at how much sympathy and goodness is inside of Belle.

"Through what I have understood from the history of this realm, their deaths were caused by disease or war."

Her tiny nose piques. Ruby lays down our food unceremoniously. Quick and easy, before gliding away on long legs in a short skirt. I start to reach for the red bottle sitting at where the table meets the wall.

"Now, you must try this. Condiments are this world's magic."

Out of corner of my eye, I notice something quite distasteful taking place. Regina entering the diner.

"Gold."

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Victorian. I almost snort at the first sight of the architecture of Gold's home. Right before I feel the sudden need to destroy the fine house in its darkened structure.

_I should do it. Just so he can feel a little of what I feel._

Still, I catch myself from conjuring in the middle of the sidewalk. True, it is empty. Not a soul up or down the block. I can't hear any cars that are coming to pass. Only a calm day of gray and seagulls passing overhead.

Admittedly, I don't believe that the mess will be excused so easily by his neighbors. Not that it would make much of a difference to me. It's not as though I can die and there is not a cell that can hold me.

I know that if the death of my family wasn't laying so heavily on my mind that I would notice how well-kept the front lawn is. Really, I would. It is admirable of Rumple to still be such an ogre over every little detail that concerns his home. The careful painting of black over the edging of the rail. The steps being so well-preserved that the creaking is down to a minimum. I know that he would want to still be able to hear intruders although he isn't paranoid enough to enchant the steps. Actually, he probably has enchanted the steps.

The doorknob is familiar and yet not. The idea of it, perhaps. I must look completely out of my mind to be standing here so stiffly and staring at a doorknob. The piece is unremarkable to the eyes. Rumple has chosen an oval piece. The rustic look of it only matches the overlying appearance of its home.

This curse is absolutely wretched in that way. I remember one lifetime in a world without doors, without walls to being enslaved in an existence of fortresses and draft palaces of stone. This new life that I recall and exist in is completely exotic to what I had. Electricity. Chemicals, in the bottled sense. Cars, how I hate cars. Their rumbling engines and stink. The heat of them burns my flesh and makes me want to retch my guts out. Yet, it is the most menial detail that gives the greatest grief.

Roofs. They are my end of happiness and the ever present dictator of my situation. They hold me down. They keep me from clouds and the sun during the day. From stars and the moon at night. Roofs cost me. They cover my appetence for complete freedom from structure, from conformity, and ultimately, from the choices I have made.

That is the main reason for my hesitance into his house.

A dog whines in the distance. _How can I be so distraught that I have forgotten that I really nowhere else to go._

Until then I wasn't so sure that I wanted to enter but as my fist wraps around the handle; it is my need for solitude that tells me to go inside.


End file.
